1Disclaimer: I own nothing. I only own the plot, and even then, that's not all too much.

I got the idea for this fic when I was staying at the Plaza on a visit to New York. I was reading some interviews with the actors on the computer and then I read that all the stars of "The Outsiders" had stayed at the Plaza in the 80's, so I got really excited. Then I stared writing so I could wind down enough to go to bed, and this kinda came from that. Hope you like it. PLEASE REVIEW!

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"Ponyboy. Hey, Pony, get up." I opened my eyes slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight that was poring in through the open window. "C'mon, Pony. Get up." I blinked and turned over. What I saw made me want to laugh. My second eldest brother, Sodapop, was standing over me, looking like he had just been hit by a truck. (Soda looks like that every morning.) His hair was a mess and his eyes were kinda puffy and red. He had on his blue DX shirt–half buttoned–and teddy bear printed boxers. Teddy bears. Sodapop was truly one of a kind.

"Huh?" I blinked again and yawned. "Can't...too sleepy..." I muttered and closed my eyes again. Sodapop tried to wake me up a few more times, but I only rolled over and snuggled deeper under the blankets. I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be.

"Fine, but you'll be late for school." I snorted. Since when did Sodapop care about being late for school? He was always talking about dropping out, but Mom wouldn't let him. He left, muttering about "lazy kids these days" and "lack of proper respect". I laughed.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, you get out of that bed right this instant!" I opened my eyes and looked up from the safety of my warm bed to find my mom standing over me, hands on her hips. I groaned as she stripped the blankets off me. Glory, it was cold! "Get up, or you'll be late for school." She said sternly, and I instantly obeyed. Reluctantly, I tore myself from the warm cocoon of pillows and blankets. Mom stayed until she was sure I was up and out of bed. "Get dressed, Pony!"

"Yes, ma'am." I said and walked over to my dresser. I yanked out a pair of ancient jeans that used to be Soda's and a pair of clean socks. My family isn't exactly rich (far from it), so I get quite a few hand-me-downs.

"Hurry up, Ponyboy!" I heard my mom call from the kitchen, and I doubled my speed. I yanked on my favorite green t-shirt, grabbed my shoes, and headed for the bathroom.

"'Mornin', sleepy-head." Dad said as I walked into the kitchen. He grinned at me and I felt myself returning the grin. He and Soda were alike in a lot of ways, except in looks, of course. They both had those contagious grins, kinda reckless like. My family's kind of funny that way. Sodapop looks just like my mom, only he has my dad's eyes. Soda is real handsome–handsomer than anyone else I've ever known. He's got dark-gold hair that turns wheat-gold in the summer

and dark brown eyes–reckless and dancing and always lively. But even though he's like my dad, Sodapop is one-of-a-kind. He can get drunk dancing or drag racing without touching a single drop of alcohol. He gets drunk on just plain living. He's a real good listener, too.

"Think you took long enough, Ponyboy?" My eldest brother, Darry asked me.

"Just long enough for you to finish up on your beauty sleep, Super-dope. You really needed it." I shot back, using one of Steve's favorite nicknames for him. I kinda felt bad when I said that, I mean, Darry and I get along really good, but I'm kind of a smart-aleck sometimes. Dad says it's from reading so much. Darry's nineteen and he just left highschool. He wants to go to college. He probably will, too, what with the athletic scholarship he got and all. He's real popular. He was captain of the football team at school and even got voted Boy of the Year. Darry looks just like my dad–dark-brown hair that kind of kicks out in the front with a cow-lick in the back. His eyes are all his own, though. They're pale blue-green, unlike my dad's brown ones. Him and Dad have a real good time joking around and just having fun. Then Dad'll slap Darry on the back and tell him he's a regular "chip off the block". Whatever that means. Darry's pretty handsome, too. Not Sodapop-handsome, just handsome. He's got that real clean-cut look. He's about six-foot-two and really muscular.. I always try to get him on our team when we play footballDarry's good.

I don't really look like any one person in my family, at least not to me. I have light brown-reddish hair and grey-green eyes. Darry's always saying they're green–just to annoy me–but I'm sticking with grey. I don't like a lot of guys with green eyes. I wish I was as handsome as Sodapop, but I guess my own looks aren't son bad either. Besides, it's not like I could change them, even if I wanted to, so I guess I have to be content with what I have.

"That's enough, boys. Pony, Soda, you to get ready for school. Go on!" Mom whisked my plate away just as I was about to pick up a piece of egg. Mom started to clean the dirty breakfast dishes and Darry got up to help. "And Sodapop, I don't wanna hear a single thing about you and Steve foolin' around anymore, you hear?" (Soda had gotten a week's worth of detention with his friend Steve the other day for stealing their English teacher's wig.) Soda grinned cheekily and stuffed a bit of scrambled egg into his mouth.

"Shoot, Mom. We ain't that bad. We did that guy a favor. His wig looked so fake–we just couldn't stand to hear him as the butt of bald-jokes and such. Steve and I felt it our duty as good citizens, and students, to help the poor guy out is all. It was what you might call an act of charity." I nearly choked on the chocolate milk I had been drinking and Dad winked at me. I tried, unsuccessfully, to wink back.

"Oh..." Mom searched for the right word, trying to hold back a smile. "You boys just get off to school. Go on, and behave!" Me and Soda walked out the door and down the front steps.

"You want a ride, Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked as he headed for Steve's car. I glanced at Steve. He doesn't really like it when I hang out with him and Soda. He thinks I'm just a tag-along kid.

"Nah, I'm gonna walk with Johnny." Johnny Cade was my best buddy, besides Sodapop. He was a member of our gang and was youngest next to me. Johnny had dark tanned skin and black hair with a lot of grease in it that fell in shaggy bangs over his forehead. He had big black eyes that were scared and suspicious and gentle, too. Just picture a little lost puppy that's been kicked too many times and you have Johnny Cade. Johnny had it real rough at home, what with his dad always beating him and his mother not caring for anything but herself. We all tried to make it up to him by being the best buddies we could be, but I know all Johnny really wanted was for his parents to finally care about him. Johnny was everybody's little brother. He was a real good listener, too.

"'Kay." Soda said as he jumped into the car with Steve. I smiled to myself as the car pulled into the street at break-neck speed. Soda always did like drag races. I liked them too, come o think of it.

I met Johnny in front of the vacant lot by our house. It was a favorite grease hangout. We were all greasers in our gang. In my town, there are two sides: East and West. The Socs live in the West side. It's kind of hard to spell and I'm not sure if I spelled it right. The West-side Socs–the rich kids. Socs like to throw beer-blasts and jump greasers. The East side is home to us greasers. We're poorer than the Socs and the middle-class and kind of wilder, too. We don't throw beer-blasts or wreck houses like the Socs. Greasers are more like hoods. We drive old souped-up cars and rob drug stores and hold gang fights every once in a while. Not that Soda or me or Darry ever do anything like that. Mom would skin us if we ever got into that kind of trouble. Our gang's pretty good; I mean, we do steal stuff and even I''ve gotten into a few fights before, but we're pretty good, for the most part. I'm not saying that either greasers or Socs are better. I mean, there's good greasers and bad greasers and I'm sure it's the same way with the Socs. I couldn't say for sure, 'cause I don't know many Socs. Socs hate greasers and we have to be careful not to be alone 'cause we might get jumped. I'm not exactly sure why we hate each other so muchexcept for a difference in money. It all seems kind of pointless to me.

I'm really sorry for such a short chapter. The next one will be much longer. Please tell me what you think and if I have any spelling mistakes. Thanks for reading. Next chapter coming soon.